


Retrospect

by wordstothewisereaders



Series: Chuck's Storybook [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood, DeanCas - Freeform, Depression, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 04:51:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12810003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordstothewisereaders/pseuds/wordstothewisereaders
Summary: Chuck Shurley has always been known as a heartbreaker. His stories have affected many. His existence has affected everyone ever created. Chuck’s son, however, doesn’t know this, and it keeps affecting him long after he’s been hurt.





	Retrospect

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a prompt I recieved on Tumblr and is also my take on Dean and Cas' reunion during season 13.

"Alright, are you ready for the last one?" 

The angel gasped dramatically, jumping up to see the book in Chuck's hands. 

"The  _very_  last one? It can't be over yet!" The blue-eyed angel said in shock. 

"Not the last one. The last one for a little while. I still have to write the rest." Chuck explained. 

"You gotta write faster, Daddy! I gotta know what happens!" 

"Well, I  _could_  start right now, get closer to done. Unless you want to finish this, of course?" Chuck teased. 

The angel shoved the book further into his father's hands, pressing him to open it. 

"That's what I thought. Now where did we leave off at?" Chuck laughed, " _I need you to keep the faith for both of us_..."

The angel hung onto every word out of Chucks' mouth, mesmerized. Little did he know that it would be the last of the stories he would hear for lifetimes. 

***

 _"...because right now, I don't believe in a damn thing."_  

Dean rested his head against the backboard of his bed wearily. He had meant what he said. There was nothing to believe in anymore. There was no chance to save Cas or his mom. He had blown that. There was no saving innocent people in time anymore. He had blown that too. 

The picture in Dean's lap had been tormenting him ever since he had found it that morning. It was just him and Cas, relaxing in front of the Impala in an empty field that they had stopped in halfway home from who knows where. Sam had taken it impromptu with the fancy camera Dean had bought him for Christmas because he just knew his dorky little brother would love photography. Both of them were smiling shyly at each other, just as they always did. It had broken his heart when he first found it. He fingered the picture, thumb brushing over Cas' face. 

He wanted more than anything to see him again. That was the very reason he had been white-knuckling the blade in his other hand for the past hour. 

Dean had stared at the veins in his wrist tentatively. He didn't think he mattered anymore. How could he matter if there was nothing to matter for? Sam was doing alright, still keeping his faith strong. Mary was gone. Cas was dead beacuse of him, but he believed that the angel was close enough to touch if Dean would just get the hell on with it. Surely, Cas would be waiting for him on the other side. He always promised that he would be. 

 _And if not?_  Dean thought.  _Then you're just wastin' your breath here trying to get him back._

He took a deep breath, reaching for the notepad at his bedside and scribbling down a quick note to Sam telling him he loves him and had to do this, that it was better this way.

Closing his eyes, he brought the blade down deep into his wrist. Shaking, he went to do it again and again. 

He had put it down as soon as his vision had blurred and his breathing became shallow. It scared him, as much as he hated to say it, not being in control. But he didn't really want to be in control anymore. Before he could finally lose himself, the door nearly slammed off of its hinges, startling him in his haze.

"Dean!"

***

_Something wasn't right._

Of course it's not right. It's never right. _Cas thought, rolling his eyes to himself as he sped down the highway in an old stolen pickup truck._ Maybe it's because you were just resurrected.

_But this was different. Of course, there was the expected disorientation of being gone for so long and the weird excitement of almost being back home. But this? He could almost physically feel the wrongness of something off. It's why he was pushing forty miles over the speed limit on the highway towards the bunker._

_He passed a road sign after what felt like forever of driving down the same road._ Lawrence 100 miles. _He sighed as he looked at the gas arrow and pulled into the nearest gas station to fill back up for the final stretch back to the bunker._

_He had finished pumping gas when the sense of worry strengthened, causing goosebumps. He hurried back to the truck, slamming the door. Before he could turn the key, a blinding pain ricocheted through his head. He gasped, holding his head in his hands. There was another bright burst of pain before his vision went black for a moment, turning into staticy color just as quickly._  

Dean sat in his bed, arms outstretched in front of him with a blade in one hand. He stared at his wrist thoughtfully, tears almost running onto his cheeks. There was a note on the nightstand, the only letters legible from this distance being 'Goodbye, Sammy." 

Dean took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he dragged the edge along his skin. He cried out as he bore down, over and over. 

Then there was red.

_Cas gasped sharply. He didn't even think as he tore out of the parking lot, tires squealing. It was Dean, and he was miserable. Cas recognized the strange feeling now. It was longing and hope and despair. It was everything that Dean had buried for the entirety of his life, surfacing because of the buildup of his losses._

_He made it to the bunker in record time, hardly remembering to throw the truck into park. and flew out the door and into his home._

_He sprinted down the hallway. Maybe there was still time._

_Breaking into Dean's door, Cas paced towards the bed._

_"Dean!"_

_Dean's head snapped up, eyes wide._  

_"Dean, stop!"_

_Dean looked up with watery green eyes, looking taken aback and weaker than Cas has ever seen him. "You-you aren't..."_

_"What the hell do you think you're doing?"_

_"Cas-" Dean shuddered._

_Cas went forward, catching Dean in his arms and holding him to him. He could feel the sticky blood getting onto his pants and the wet tears where Dean had buried his head into Cas' torso._

_Cas held a light hand to Dean's forehead, reducing the spinning in Dean's head and replenishing enough of the blood he lost to let him live long enough for Cas to properly patch him up. The light flowing from his fingertips soon faded into nothing, though, and he began to move faster._

_"C'mon. I'm going to fix this." Cas grunted as he managed to move Dean into a limp standing position._

_They slowly made it to the bathroom. Cas wanted so desperately to use his grace and pull Dean away from the edge he was teetering on. However, he had exhausted the small amount of grace on hand left from his trip to the Empty._

_Cas made Dean sit on the counter and lean against the wall, holding out his wrists. He scrambled for any medical supplies he could find, bandages and tape and anything else. He put pressure on the gaping cuts, wrapping them as tightly as he could. Bandage after bandage piled up on Dean's arms as one after another soaked through with blood. Finally, though, Cas managed to cover them safely._

_Dean was barely conscious on the contertop, so Cas shouldered most of his weight as he carried him back to his room. Cas could feel his heart pounding in his own chest, terrified of what was happening._ Had he done enough?

_Gently, Cas lay Dean down on his bed and sat beside him, pulling his head into his lap. Tears welled in his eyes as he watched the broken man unintentionally sleep._

_He held onto Dean's hand like a lifeline, propping his head on his free hand. A piece of paper on the nightstand caught his gaze. His name was written on it in cramped cursive. Fearfully, he reached for it. His eyes scanned over it, heart breaking as he read what Dean thought would be his last words to him. It was filled with gratitude of having Cas around and of the special thing that they had. Cas was close to tears. What sent him over the edge was something he had never dreamed would be said, even on Dean's deathbed. A sob escaped him. He threw a careful arm around Dean, holding onto him._

I love you, Cas. Don't think that I ever didn't.

***

"That's it?" the angel asked, sniffing back his own tears. 

"Not forever, just for now. Daddy's about to take a break." Chuck said, ruffling his hair. 

"But..."

"I promise, bud. Another day." Chuck said. "I've got worlds to create. One day, it will make sense."

The angel looked beyond dissappointed as he watched his father dissappear. He knew that 'another day' would never come.

***

Cas hadn't meant to doze off, but he had exhausted himself trying to heal Dean and his grace needed to recharge. He woke up an hour later, startled awake in a cold sweat. 

His eyes flew open wildly. He looked up at Dean before holding two fingers to the hunter's pulse point. He could feel a faint beat every few seconds. He couldn't sit still, so he got up and paced the hallway. He found an empty room that he knew no one would be using and stepped inside, slamming the door. 

He remembered now. That damned dream had to bring it back to him. Sitting in his father's lap so many millenia ago, listening to his 'stories' that he sould have figured out weren't stories long before today. 

Cas punched a hole in the nearby wall, hardly feeling his split knuckles. 

He could have saved Dean from this trouble if he could have remembered, if he wouldn't have dismissed Chuck's tales as lies told to keep him loyal before his letdowns. 

"This is your fault, Chuck!" Cas screamed, beyond pissed at his father and himself. "You knew! You knew he could die and didn't do a damned thing about it! I love him, but why the hell do you care? Some father you are!"

He collapsed on the empty bed, clutching the comforter in his hands. Blood ran down them and stained the fabric. 

"How dare you feed me the truth and leave me! How was I supposed to know?" Cas said angrily. "You're a damned coward! If he dies, it's all on you!"

Cas cradled his head in his hands, clutching at his hair. 

"Fix this." he pleaded, anger draining out of him quickly. "Please fix this." 

He sat like that for what felt like hours. A loud bang startled him out of his daze. He jumped to his feet, rushing to Dean's room. 

Dean was flat on his ass by the bed, struggling to get up with one hand as he shakily pointed a pistol at Cas with the other. 

"You're dead." he growled weakly. 

"Dean." Cas said quietly as he raised his hands. "It's me. Let me prove it to you before you hurt yourself even more." 

Cas slowly reached for a silver knife nearby and dragged the blade along his forearm. He went through the whole nine yards, holy water and all. As he saw that Dean was satisified, he rushed to his side to help him. 

Dean tried to wrap himself around Cas, but he found that he was weak. His arms stung painfully everytime he moved them. Tears welled in his eyes as he looked from the bandages to Cas and back again. 

"Cas." Dean sighed, sinking into his arms as soon as he was sitting steadily on the bed. 

"Dean." Cas replied, breathing in the smell of Dean's shampoo as he nuzzled his face into his hair. 

"Don't  _ever_  do that again!" he scolded as the familiarity sat back in. He pushed away from Dean angrily.

"Cas, I..." Dean stammered emotionally. "You were gone. Mom's dead. I can't...I couldn't function without you. It wasn't...I just _couldn't_ , Cas."

"You could have died! Hell, I thought you were dead ten minutes ago! Do you know what would have become of the world, of Sam, of  _me,_  if we lost you?" Cas asked incredulously. 

"Why the hell do you think I did this? What was the point of going on if all that you ever lived for was gone? Sam's optimistic. The bright spot that I can't go without. But me? I knew my world was going to hell in a handbasket. I had nothing to matter for, Cas. Don't you freaking see that?" Dean said. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he hung his head ashamedly. 

"Dean, please don't. Please don't cry." Cas whispered. He sat next to the man, cradling him in his arms. "I read your letter, Dean. I love you, too. You know that? I do." 

Dean sniffled, shifting in Cas' arms to look at him. 

"No." he said in disbelief.

"I love you." 

"Cas," Dean whispered. He paused for a moment, letting all of his pain and grief and sadness wash over him before relishing in what was right in front of him. "I love you, too." 

Cas held Dean as he fell asleep. He respected that Dean wasn't ready to address the cuts on his arms. It was far too early for that. He did know that he would help him heal, even if it took as long as he thought it would. 

Because Dean was supposed to die earlier, and Cas knew it. He felt it deep in his gut that something wasn't natural. He knew that it was miraculous that Dean was breathing so freely in his arms. It was off, and he could still feel the slightest hint of anger in his heart. He knew that Chuck had heard him. 

Cas watched Dean as he breathed deeply. He noticed a sliver of paper folded in the pocket of his flannel. Carefully, he pulled it out and unfolded it. The words shot a rage-filled, awed pulse through Cas. 

_You're welcome._

                   _~ C.S._


End file.
